


My Bounty is as Boundless as the Sea

by Fool of a Book Wyrm (Lafeli85)



Series: Bounty Verse [1]
Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood Magic, Gay Simon Snow, Gentle Simon Snow, M/M, POV Alternating, Post-Book 1: Carry On, Post-Book 2: Wayward Son, Post-Watford (Simon Snow), Simon Snow Loves Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch, Soft Simon Snow, Soft Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch Loves Simon Snow, as a treat for sharing_a_room_with_an_open_fire, magic sharing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-14
Updated: 2020-05-14
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:01:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24186307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lafeli85/pseuds/Fool%20of%20a%20Book%20Wyrm
Summary: “Baz? Wh- what’s wrong?” He looks nervous. Like he’s waiting for the other shoe to drop. More bad news. He’s always waiting for something terrible to happen.“Nothing, Snow. Nothing iswrong. I just found something. In one of the ritual books. This ritual book, actually.” I nod in the direction of the book I had been reading. Again. I’ve read that chapter enough times now, I’m fairly confident that we can make it work. If he agrees. As confident as I can be in a ritual of this sort. I gulp down the last dregs of my blood and set the mug down.“I found a binding ritual. A binding for shared magic.”
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch & Simon Snow, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Series: Bounty Verse [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1758355
Comments: 23
Kudos: 160





	My Bounty is as Boundless as the Sea

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to [Sharing_a_room_with_an_open_fire](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sharing_a_room_with_an_open_fire) for being my beta, cheerleader, sounding board, and amazing friend. When I say that we just spent nearly the last week tossing ideas, corrections, edits, and re-writes back and forth because I'm indecisive and a wreck, I am not exaggerating in the least. Thank you, Thank you from the very bottom of my heart!! 💜💜💜 I most definitely would have given up on this without your constant encouragement.  
>   
> This fic was a labor of love, and is a personal milestone. My brain usually short-circuits around 3K words, and the work usually gets buried in a graveyard folder for all of my WIPs that I want so much from and am overwhelmed to get all of my thoughts out. So this 10K word baby means everything to me. 
> 
> I know it's not crafted with the expert hand so many of my favorite fandom writers possess, but I hope this brings joy to at least a few hearts. Wayward Son has murdered my tender soul, and this was very much a healing piece for myself.

**BAZ**

The library at the Bunce’s is bigger than anything I would have ever guessed they’d have room for in this house. From looking at the outside, and knowing how many Bunce children live here, the idea that they have space for a library at all is almost beyond recognition. But looking at the size of the room, I’d have to guess that Professor Bunce has cast some sort of **“Bigger on the inside”** spell on the house. That’s not exactly a legal spell, but I’m not here to judge. Not when there are books here that aren’t in my family library at the manor in Hampshire. 

Bunce is currently piling books in Simon’s arms. The stack is so tall I don’t know if he’ll even be able to see where he’s walking when she’s picked out everything she’s looking for. 

“Pen, I can’t take another. I’m just going to bring these over to the—” He starts walking away when her hand with yet another tome is reaching to pile just _one_ more to his already tottering pile. 

“Here, dragon boy. Let me take a couple of those before you hurt yourself.” I take half the pile, setting them on the table in the middle of the room. These books are old, the last thing we need is for him to break the binding on an irreplaceable volume. He sets the rest of his pile down next to mine. I pick up the first book from the pile closest to me.

“Bunce. How many books does your family own on ritualistic bindings?” I know we’re here to do research on how to break the curse on Shepard, but I’m still not entirely sure why Simon and I aren’t in Hampshire sorting through my family’s library while she and Shepard investigate here. 

“Oh, lots. I don’t know how many exactly, but Dad is obsessed with marriage rites and family magic. Most of his research has come from books on bindings, so we have a lot here, ” she says glancing in Shepard’s direction with determination on her face, “I thought maybe something here could help us learn how to _break_ a bond like what Shep’s demon has on him. Mum and Dad are bound together in five dimensions, so there must be something here about binding in a demonic dimension.”

“But _why_ exactly,” I ask her pointedly “did you need Snow and I to help pick through your library, when we could have split the load by having the two of us go search my library in Hampshire?” 

“Basil.” She sounds exasperated. She usually reserves that tone for Snow. “You know we both work better when we can talk the problem out. Plan and dissect the information we gather into lists. _Together_.” 

With that, she turns to the whiteboard she had been dragging beside the work table. She’s neatly making two columns: _Things we know_ and _Things we don’t_. 

“Alright, Bunce. Point made. Let’s get started then.” I pick up the first book in one of the piles and take it to a plush chair in the corner. I set my notebook and pen on the small table next to me ready to take any notes that might provide to be useful. 

~*~*~* ~*~*~*

Three hours later Simon is pacing the room, not even pretending to be helping research any longer. I’m quite honestly surprised that he lasted this long. His tail keeps thrashing around behind him, thumping the wall or furniture any time he gets too close to something.

“Snow, are you hungry?” I ask him. I know he needs to get out. Even if it’s just for a little while. He was never one for studying back at Watford. That hasn’t changed in the past year other than the fact that he no longer fills the room with overflowing magic when he is frustrated. 

“I could eat.” He says. Of course he could. Some things never change, and Snow would still eat a full stick of butter and a dozen scones for a mid-morning snack if he had his way. 

“How about I spell in your wings and we walk down to the pub to pick up lunch for us all?” His face lights up at the suggestion. He doesn’t particularly enjoy having anybody spell his wings. (Or use magic on him in general.) But the promise of food and an escape from staring at these books has him looking like Christmas came early. 

~*~*~* ~*~*~*

Once we’ve eaten, Simon is able to settle in with another book again. I’m sure I’ll need to go back through the books he’s discarded, because I’m not confident that he’s not overlooking possible pertinent information. Maybe I’ll just note which ones he’s done, and advise Bunce to give them another look after we’ve left. 

I’ve been through four books so far and have not come up with anything about a demonic realm. Bargaining with a demon. Bonding with a demon. Anything about fucking demons at all! I toss the book I just finished aside in agitation and move on to the next. It’s not incredibly old, looks to have been printed in the late 19th century. _Blood Bindings Through the Ages_. No wonder Bunce’s mum wouldn’t let the Mage set foot in this house. If I thought the **Bigger on the inside** spell on the house was bad enough, I know without a doubt this book was made illegal when the Mage took power. Blood bindings are highly illegal now. I’m a little more impressed with Bunce’s family than I was before. Perhaps the Grimm-Pitch’s and Bunce’s have more in common than just being brilliant mages, given the amount of questionable reading material we both possess. 

I scan the table of contents, looking for any particular chapters I should spend extra time on. 

_Chapter IV: A Shared Bond  
While the majority of mages pair off with other mages of equal ability to ensure the strength of their family line, there are always outliers. Mages who choose to marry an individual with inferior magick to their own, or with no magick at all, may wish to find a way to enhance their partner’s magickal offering. One way to do this is through the blood ritual of a shared bond.  
Through this rite, a bonded magickal pair will be able to tap into each other's well of magick. The magickal reserve and use of ability would flow in tandem with the other. However, as with every mutual magickal bargain, there is a price. While magick will be shared, so too will the bonded pair’s life force. As the magickal reservoir will be shared and felt by the other, injuries and even death will also be shared with the bonded counterpart.  
This rite should be considered deeply by both parties before it is performed. There is no counter-spell for this blood ritual, and will bond the pair for life. …”_

My pulse picks up as I read the chapter two more times before covertly tucking it into my bag when Bunce isn’t looking. If this is true, it could solve problems for both Simon and me. I’m sure it won’t share his _humanity_ with me, I’ll still be a vampire, but it could give Simon magic again. I would give him all of my magic if I could, just to bring him back to his old self. But this won’t just _give_ him my magic, it’ll allow us both to share it. 

The text had continued on to talk about risks of bonding with a mage or Normal who is not compatible with their partner’s magic. But Simon and I know better than anybody that we’re compatible. We’ve _shared_ magic before. In ways that no mage in history has done. And more than just sharing magic, this would solve the problem of my immortality. I don’t know if it will cause me to age along with him. It sounds probable that it will, as injury and death are shared. What is aging, but the body’s slow decay toward inevitable death? 

I’ve never wanted to be immortal. I always rather believed my life would end in flames anyway. By Simon’s hand. I guess now, it really will be unless I go first. Whoever dies first will drag the other down with them. 

I check the time. I would normally want to stay later to do more research. This is what Bunce and I do best. But I need to get Simon home. I want to read this text over again to make sure it’s what I think it is, and I need to discuss it with Simon. 

“Bunce, as much fun as this has been, Simon and I should be going. We’ll be back in the morning. Text me if you find anything.”

“Alright, Basil.” She doesn't even glance up from her book to look at me. “Mum wants Shep and me to stay here tonight. I think she just wants to interrogate him about everything he’s learned about magic,” she says glancing over at Shepard, “what he can and can’t see in the world of mages. So we won’t be home tonight. If you wanted the flat to yourselves.” She quirks an eye at me, smirking. I just roll my eyes at the same time Simon shrugs his shoulders. Spending time alone _together_ isn’t really something we do. I’ve spent the night, but Bunce has always been in the flat as a buffer. This past year has been anything but the erotic gropefest I always imagined. Everything started so promising that Christmas Eve when he wanted to be my terrible boyfriend. Thinking about how horrible everything has gone since that Christmas Day still hurts. After nearly a decade of learning to control my impulses and desires where Simon Snow is concerned, I can survive with whatever touches he allows me. But not knowing if he believes how much I love him is almost unbearable, and seeing how much he doubts his own worth without his magic tears me apart inside. I want to resurrect the Mage just so I can kill him all over again for putting Simon through this. 

“I actually need to go back to mine to check on something for Fiona since she’s still away on business,” I say casually, “so we might just stay there tonight. If that’s alright with you, Snow?”

“Uh, yeah. Tha- that would be. Uh. Fine. So. We’ll see you tomorrow, Pen.” The way he blusters probably shouldn’t make me feel the way it does. There is nothing else I’d love to do more than take this blathering idiot home and snog him until he can’t remember his own name. Trace my mouth down that long showy neck of his, dotting every mole with a kiss. Dragging my teeth right down- 

I shake my head a little to banish the thoughts. Crowley, I need to drink. 

~*~*~* ~*~*~*

When we get back to my flat, I pull out the book I borrowed from Bunce and my notebook. I need to talk to Snow about this. My stomach is twisting itself into knots just thinking about it. But I need to read it over one more time before I bring it up to him. I don’t want to get his hope up about the possibility of regaining magic if it won’t even work for us. But maybe this isn’t even something he’d want. To tie himself to me for life. We haven’t even managed to say _I love you_ in words. I try to show him in all of the ways I know how. I’d rather not give him the opportunity to tell me he doesn’t feel the same. I think he does, or at least that he could. If he let himself. He’s been so hung up on his losses since that Christmas, afraid of me or Penny deciding he’s a burden and leaving him too. Maybe a way to have magic to use again will help him realize that we’re not just here for him because of what he was. I don’t want him to think that _I_ need him to have magic, but I know that _he_ needs magic to feel useful. 

“Would you mind making us some tea, Snow? I’d like to finish reading over this book before it gets too late.” Really, I just need to get him out of the room so I can focus on reading. With him near me, all I can think about is how delicious he smells and the way his blood sounds as it pumps through his veins. How I’d love to lick every inch of him before sinking my teeth into him. 

“Yeah, I can do that. Are you thirsty too? I can heat up some blood while I’m in there.” He says it so casually. Like it’s not out of the ordinary to heat up blood for your vampire boyfriend. He knows me well, how to read me and my moods. I love him so much it hurts. _Please, let this work for us._ I’m silently begging the universe. We’ve been dealt one shit hand after another. We deserve this little peace offering. He deserves it, after everything he’s given and been saddled with. 

“That would be lovely, Snow. Thank you.” I smile at him before he turns around and walks to the kitchen. _I love you,_ I want to tell him. Does he know? He must. I want to tell him. I need to tell him. Maybe after I tell him about the ritual. He’ll have to know after I tell him about it, won’t he?

~*~*~* ~*~*~*

Snow comes back in with tea service for two and a mug of steaming blood on a tray. He even piled a plate of biscuits and a couple of scones on the tray. I take the mug of blood and begin to drink while he pours our tea. 

He gestures to the scones. “Hit those with **Some like it hot** , would you?” 

I raise an eyebrow at him, but really I’m grateful. This is a perfect segue to what I need to talk to him about. I pull my wand from my sleeve and heat his scones. I’m brilliant with fire and heating spells, so I manage to heat them to the perfect temperature. Not too hot, like Bunce always does. He smiles as he slathers butter on his first scone. 

“Snow,” I begin. I’m not really sure how to begin without making him curl in on himself. Magic is such a precarious topic with him. I take a breath to collect myself. 

He’s stopped buttering his scone and is looking at me. Not just _at_ me, but into me. Like he could cut into me with his gaze and see what I’m thinking. “Baz? Wh- what’s wrong?” He looks nervous. Like he’s waiting for the other shoe to drop. More bad news. He’s always waiting for something terrible to happen. 

“Nothing, Snow. Nothing is _wrong_. I just found something. In one of the ritual books. This ritual book, actually.” I nod in the direction of the book I had been reading. Again. I’ve read that chapter enough times now, I’m fairly confident that we can make it work. If he agrees. As confident as I can be in a ritual of this sort. I gulp down the last dregs of my blood and set the mug down. 

“I found a binding ritual. A binding for shared magic.” 

**SIMON**

I blink at him a couple times. I’m not sure if I’m understanding what he’s said. A binding for shared magic. What does that even mean? He found a way to share magic with me again? But I’m not even a mage anymore, I never really was. I’m a Normal. I was shit at using magic when I had my own, why would he even think sharing magic with me would be a good idea? 

And _binding_? That doesn’t sound like anything good can come of it. Binding rituals are permanent and tricky. I’ve heard all about Penny’s parents' marriage binding, I know what that kind of magic entails. 

I guess I’ve been staring at him for too long and not saying anything because he pushes on. Filling the silence between us. 

“The binding would allow the two people the ability to tap into each other’s magical ability and reserve,” he’s looking at me while speaking. It’s hard to meet his eyes when he’s talking like this. It feels like too much, too intimate, what he’s suggesting. “It was designed for a powerful mage to share his magic with a lower-powered mage or Normal. The original application was during times of war, but it became popular for a time as a way to allow mages to marry Normals and produce magical children, if desired,” Baz sounds as if he’s reciting that book he found word by word. He probably is. “The children weren’t usually very powerful, but it was more of a guarantee for a union to carry on the magical family line. Of course, children aren’t really a concern of mine given the circumstances,” he says swallowing. “My point is, this ritual would allow us to share my magic with you. You could have magic again, Simon.”

“I-. But wh-,” I don’t know what I want to say. My brain is swirling with too many thoughts. He wants to share his magic with me. The heir of one of the most powerful magical families in England is offering to share his magic with me. His family would absolutely lose it if they knew. But Baz has never exactly cared about doing things just to please his family. But more importantly than the idea of Baz sharing his magic with me, is that word. _Binding_. He would be bound to me. For life. Binding rituals are always for life, aren’t they? Is he saying he wants to be bound to me forever? Would he really want that?

“Baz,” I try again. “What you’re saying. That’s a lot. Have you even taken time to think about it? About what you’d be offering? You just found the ritual tonight. You can’t really have had enough time to decide you’d want to do that. With me.”

“I don’t need time, Snow.” He says it with so much confidence, I want to believe him. I want it so much it hurts. 

“You said it was a binding ritual. I was a shit student at Watford, but even I know that binding spells are forever. Baz. You can’t-” I trail off. I can’t finish the sentence. I hope he knows what I struggle to say. 

The wanker just raises that infernal eyebrow at me. He’s going to make me stumble over my words. Make me tell him that he can’t bind himself to me for life. 

I sigh. “You can’t bind yourself to me, Baz. You’d never be able to change your mind. I promised you back at your Leaver’s Ball. You’d always be free to change your mind,” Doesn’t he understand? The mess he’s willing to bind himself to? He should be getting this, he’s smarter than anyone I’ve ever met. “About us. About me,” I clarify, “When you finally get bored with me being a Normal. If you do this, you’ll never be able to walk away.”

**BAZ**

“Crowley, Snow. I told you then and I’ll tell you now. Because you’re stubborn, and thick, and apparently still don’t listen. You’re not a Normal and I won’t change my mind.” I take his hand in mine. “You’ve been my whole world since we were eleven years old. I’m not offering this because I need you to have magic.” I say, putting as much force as I can in my next words so he’ll understand me. So he’ll believe me, “I’m perfectly content with you as you are. I’m offering this because magic has always been the one thing that you have loved consistently more than anything for as long as I’ve known you.” I pause to really look at him, willing him to believe my words. “You may have been rubbish at controlling your own overpowering magic, but I’ve never seen you happier than when you’d watch controlled displays of magic. Those early years, when you were still learning everything a mage could do with their magic, I wished I could be half as happy,” I give his hand a light squeeze, “You’ll be able to control this magic, Snow. It’s Pitch magic.” I’d never say it to him, but Simon Snow has always controlled Pitch magic. He has control over me, even when he can’t see it. “I’m powerful, but I still have a limit. And having a limit means having control. Let me give this to you. I want to see you happy again.”

**SIMON**

I know his words shouldn’t hit me the way they do. He wants to see me happy again. Because he hasn’t seen me happy since we realized I was the Humdrum. That was over a year ago. He’s stayed with me, trying to make me happy again. Not changing his mind. Not walking away. Just waiting for me to be happy again so we can finally properly be together. The way I thought we might be, that Christmas Eve in his bedroom. Before. I would do anything for him. I’ll never change my mind about him. Never turn my back and walk away. If he wants to share his magic with me, if he’s sure, I’ll do it. But there’s still one question that has been nagging in the back of my mind. 

“Baz. If we do this, binding. Bindings are for life. Who-” I don’t know how to word my question. We don’t talk about his immortality. Probable immortality? He’s still not sure if he _is_ immortal. He still tells me he knows fuck all about vampires, even though that’s not strictly true anymore. We did learn quite a bit in Vegas. What happened in Vegas did not stay in Vegas. “When I die. What if you _are_ immortal? What will happen to the binding when I’m gone? Could it hurt you somehow? Make you weaker?” I won’t do it if it will leave him vulnerable. 

“When did you become so insightful into the intricacies of binding rituals?” He asks me. He gives me a smirk. “You’re aware that magic has a cost. The more powerful the magic, the higher the cost. This ritual will tie our life forces together. We would share magic, but we would also share life bonds. If you endure a mortal injury, the affliction will affect me. If I died, you would die. We will share everything that binds us to this life and to magic. And we would be casting from the same well of magic, so if we found ourselves in trouble - Battling a demon for Shep doesn’t seem too far in our future- we would need to be careful not to exhaust our magic.”

He just gave me a lot of information to absorb, but all I can focus on was what he said about binding our life forces together. _If I died, you would die._ But that means-

“When I die-” I rub at the back of my neck. “Baz. I’m going to die. By fighting or old age, I am going to die. That means-”

“Yes, Snow. That means I will die when you die. I won’t live the glamorous immortal lifestyle you agonize over. But I’ve never wanted that for myself. I have never wanted to live a life without you in it.”

I stand there staring at him for a moment. One moment I’m stood there staring at him, feeling the weight of everything he’s offering me. The next, I’ve launched myself across the room tackling him onto the sofa and climbing on to his lap. I don’t even remember deciding to do that, my body just reacted. My mouth is moving against his, fast and fervently, licking into his mouth. I feel a spark in me like I haven’t since America. Since before everything went to shit and I thought I’d really lost him. When I lost myself. I need to give him everything I can, right here and now. I love him so much. I know I do. Still haven’t said it, but I do. I snog him right into the cushions, hands touching everywhere at once. 

He breaks away, breathless. “I wish I would have found this spell ages ago, if this is how you’re going to react.” He chuckles, pressing a kiss to the side of my neck. Just under my ear, the mole that he still uses as a target when I let him. He trails more kisses down my neck, slow. Catching his breath, letting me calm myself. One of his hands is on my hip, the other cupped around the back of my neck. I tip my head to the side, just slightly, and close my eyes. Let myself _feel_ him, his lips. What his lips are trying to convey, what he won’t let his words say. 

Too soon, he’s pulling away to look at me. He takes my hand from his shoulder and holds it between us, our fingers interlaced. “Tomorrow, Snow. Tomorrow morning, you’re going to wake me up at whatever gods-forsaken hour you desire. You’re going to make breakfast, while I go over the spell one last time and prepare everything,” he tells me leaving no room to question, “Then you’re going to ask me, one last time, if I’m sure that I want to bind myself to you. The answer will be yes, by the way,” his eyes are full of determination, “Always yes. If all goes well with the ritual, you’ll be warming your own scones by tea time.”

A thought suddenly occurs to me. I get a sinking feeling in my gut. “Baz. I can’t cast anything. I don’t have my wand anymore. I don’t even know where it went after-” I trail off. I don’t need to finish the sentence. There is only one _before_ and _after_. I don’t know why I hadn’t thought about it before now. When he first started to tell me about the ritual. Even if he cast it, and it worked, I don’t have my wand anymore. 

“Actually,” he says. He lowers his eyes, looking at our hands clasped in his lap, like he’s ashamed of something. “I kept it. Before we left the tower the morning after it happened, you were a mess. We all were,” a sigh escapes his lips, “I pocketed it to keep for when your magic came back. I didn’t think- I _knew_ you said it was gone. But I didn’t think it would be gone forever.” He’s shaking his head now, like he’s trying to forget everything that resulted from that night. “I wanted to keep your wand safe for you, until you were ready for it again. Would you like me to get it now?”

“N- no. Not yet.” I’m not ready to see it. To hold it. Holding it would make this all real. I’ve wanted my magic back every day. I’ve prayed for it, wished it, chanted the thoughts in my head until I thought I’d go mad with the wanting. Then I tried to lock it away in my head, in that place I tuck thoughts that are too painful to think on. Things I can’t change. But now, Baz is prepared to try to give me everything. My wand, his magic, himself. He’s always trying to give me parts of himself, and I have nothing to give him back. _I love him_ I think again. And maybe if I can tell him, show him, that might start to be enough. I lean into him and press my lips to his one more time, slow and purposeful. I try to pour everything in my heart into the kiss, I want him to feel how much I love him and appreciate everything he’s trying to give me. 

I break away, resting my forehead on his. “Alright, Baz. Let’s go to bed so I can wake you up at the crack of dawn. We’ll see if you are a man of your word.”

**BAZ**

The room is still dark, but I can tell it must be getting close to dawn by the subtle shift of the darkness. Simon’s breathing is changing too, just enough for me to tell he’s on the cusp of waking. Simon hasn’t spent many nights here with me. Usually when we spend the night together it’s at his, and even that doesn’t happen as often as I’d like. I miss falling asleep to the raspy sound of his breathing. Waking up to the inconsiderate thumping of the hurricane that is Simon Snow. More than anything, I miss knowing he’s with me. Safe. 

I love this quiet time, when I’m awake for it. I didn’t get much sleep last night, agonizing over this ritual and everything it could mean for us. All of the ways it could go wrong. All of the ways it could go right. 

My back is pressed into Simon’s chest with one wing draped over me. I’m ensconced in a cocoon of comforters, a dragon wing, and Simon Snow’s arms. He has a leg twisted over my lower body, trapping me where I lay. I never feel so warm and loved as I do in these moments, when the world is asleep and the boy I love holds me like he might love me too. As if he can sense the thoughts in my head, his arms tighten around me just a little more. He breathes in a long, deep breath, which is always my signal that he’s waking. He presses a sleepy kiss to the side of my neck. I haven’t moved yet, and my pulse and breathing are slow, so I don’t think he knows I’m awake yet. I let the moment draw out a little longer, enjoying the feeling of Simon Snow when he thinks nobody is watching. “Good morning, darling.” He whispers into my neck, mouthing another kiss lower on my neck. I let out a low hum, and I can feel him smile at the junction of my shoulder. 

“You don’t have to get up yet,” he’s still whispering. Like any loud noises could break the spell of this quiet morning and what it promises. “It’s still early. Sun’s not even up yet. But I’m going to go bake some scones and put together a proper fry-up. You can go back to sleep if you want.”

“I’m up, Snow,” I grumble. Not because I’m loath to get up, but because he knows I’m not a morning person and I don’t want to fall short of his expectations. “I promised I’d get up at whatever hour you deemed appropriate. It’s only fair I get up now too. I’d love a cuppa while you’re in the kitchen though. I’m going to shower, and then I’ll be in to study the ritual while you finish getting breakfast together.”

He untangles our limbs, rolling out of bed to properly stretch his wings. I wince as I hear him upset my bedside table, knocking the book I’ve been reading to the floor. “Sorry!” I hear him groan under his breath. Those wings and tail are always a production, even when he’s not flustered. Maybe with magic he’ll be able to spell in his own wings. Make them disappear when he isn’t using them. 

~*~*~* ~*~*~*

After breakfast, I help Simon with the washing up. Only complete heathens pile dishes in the sink to do later. Simon is a moderate heathen on his best days. He would let all of the washing pile up if I didn’t keep on him. I don’t know how Bunce can stand it. (I’m disgusted by how much I envy Bunce for the privilege to reprimand his lack of hygiene and manners daily. Perhaps after we’ve sorted the binding we can talk about the possibility of living together again. We’ve been apart for too long. ) With the building anxiety I can sense in him, he’d be a complete heathen today. I don’t mind. 

After everything in the kitchen is tidy and put away we head to the sitting room, where I left the ritual book. I point out a passage in the book to him. “I have to go collect a few things. While I’m gone, read over this part here.”

I leave him to it, sat on the sofa, studying the book like it could make or break the spell. Truthfully, I just need to keep him busy for a few minutes while I go back to my bedroom to retrieve his wand. He hasn’t asked about it yet this morning, even though he knows we’re getting ready to complete the ritual. I get it from my wardrobe and tuck it into the back pocket of my trousers before rejoining him on the sofa. 

He looks over at me expectantly. “I thought you needed to go get supplies or something. What did you need to get?”

I give him a smile while reaching into my pocket to pull out his wand. I let it rest in my palm in front of him, offering it up to him but not forcing it on him. He stares at it for a moment, as if he’s trying to recall an old friend. This wand was never much of a friend to Simon. It caused him more trouble than it was worth, and never worked properly for him. He preferred to call on his sword and chop his problems to bits than rely on his magic. Most of the time, when he really needed to call on his magic, he didn’t even need his wand to cast. He just _wished_ his spells into being. That was _before_. He’ll need his wand now, my magic won’t let him just wish for what he wants. He’ll need to practice his control and elocution again, as painful as that’ll be for him. Lucky for him, I was an excellent student and I’ll be a brilliant tutor.

He reaches a hand out for it hesitantly. He glances back up at me, meeting my eyes. “Uh, can I-” he falters. 

“It’s yours, Snow. You never need to ask. Just take your time, if you need it.” He reaches again, wrapping his hand around the handle. He picks it up slowly, weighing it. It’s been over a year since he last held his wand. I can’t imagine being parted from my wand for that long. My time in the coffin was enough. 

“It feels different.” He says simply. “I- I can’t feel it. I haven’t been able to feel magic since. But this feels. Empty. I used to feel a thrum when I held it, like all of my magic was itching to explode from me when I held my wand. You remember. If I was worked up enough, just holding it could set the room on fire. _You_ were the cause of most of those fires.” I reach over and grab his other hand, giving it a squeeze. Letting him know I’m here, I remember, and I’m sorry. For antagonizing him all those years, trying to force myself to hate him. Poking him until he went off. Standing as close to the open fire as I dared. Letting him set my whole world ablaze. 

“I didn’t-” I start. These are the moments I hate most. Remembering all of the ways I was the villain he needed me to be. The person he could blame when he needed somebody to lash out on for the shit way he was treated by the Mage. Even if he didn’t recognize at the time that he had been mentored by a sociopath that treated him as a boy soldier instead of a child. 

“No.” He says quickly, cutting me off. “S’not your fault. I couldn’t control it. All those times, I would have gone off even if you weren’t there. But. It’s over now. Can’t go off and set things on fire by holding my wand now.”

“No, I suppose not.” I concede. “But you know what you need to do now?”

“What?” he asks. 

“What my mother taught me. To-” I begin before he cuts me off. Finishing my thought. 

“To light a match inside your heart, then blow on the tinder.” He says it quietly, almost reverently. He remembered, what my mother taught me about controlling our magic. The fact that he remembers, and recited it like the precious gift it is, makes my chest feel tight. My mother would have loved him. 

“Precisely,” I say as steady as I can. “So, if you’re quite done sulking in our tortured past, I’d like to be able to teach you how to use _controlled_ magic. Pitch magic. How to burn like a candle, instead of a supernova.”

He looks me in the eye and smirks. “Pitch magic,” he mutters. “Fiona will lose her shit if she finds out you bound your Pitch magic to the Mage’s heir.” 

“Fortunately for us, she’s not going to know until there is nothing she can do about it,” I tell him. “She may have helped raise me, but she doesn’t get to make decisions about my life. Who I share it with and how.” I give his hand a final squeeze before releasing it. “Now, Snow. If you think you’re quite ready. We have a few more things to do before we can perform the ritual. Starting with the question I told you to ask me one last time before we get started.” 

The courageous bastard doesn’t falter even a moment this time. “Baz. Are you absolutely sure you want to bind your magic to me? This is forever. I read the ritual. You’ll be binding your magic and your life to me, forever. Literally until death do us part. Baz, this is.” He does falter now, his cheeks flushing a beautiful shade of red, trying to find the words he wants to say. 

“It’s a proposal of sorts, Snow. In the world of mages, a magical binding is as good as being married.” I still forget how little he knows and understands in our world and traditions. He wasn’t raised into this as the rest of us were. And the last 9 years he spent more time away on missions for the Mage than learning about magical history. “We don’t have to tell anybody if you’re not ready for this to be anything more than a way for you to use magic.” I hope what I’m telling him isn’t too much. He’s started picking at a loose thread on his jumper. I take up his hand again, holding it in mine. Lending him what little inner strength and reassurance I can. “Nothing needs to change for now beyond your ability to use magic again. But you need to know, I’m ready for it,” clarifying so he understands, “All of it. This is all I could dream of ever since fifth year. Being bound to you, in every way, is everything I have ever wanted but never imagined possible for myself,” Simon’s eyes flicker to mine, part in shock, part in awe and not for the first time I wonder how someone so bright can be so thick. I might as well drive my point all the way home so I continue, “I know you hate it when I quote the classics, but please listen. Aristotle said, _‘Love is composed of a single soul inhabiting two bodies.’_ That’s us, Simon,” my throat constricts but I can’t start crying. I need to tell him _everything_ , “There is no way we’ve been able to do the things we have together if we didn’t already share a soul. I know you’re it for me.”

He has tears shining in his eyes, threatening to spill over. He sets his wand down beside him, taking one of my hands in his. The other he uses to grasp my shoulder. “Baz. I-” he shuffles closer to me. Still unhappy with the space between us, he climbs into my lap, straddling my legs with his. He raises himself up on his knees just enough, so we’re eye to eye. He presses our clasped hands over my heart. “I love you, Baz. I know I’ve been all messed up about everything. And I haven’t shown you how I feel. Not in all of the ways you deserve. I want to, I really do.” He pauses to take a breath. He’s talking so fast I’m afraid he’s going to hurt himself. “What you’re giving me, everything you’ve ever given me. I’m never myself when you’re not around, you know. Back at Watford, summers were the worst. Two whole months of nothing- No using magic, no home, no friends, no you. Those 8 weeks you were missing. I was out of my mind. All I could think about was you. I could barely eat or sleep, worried about where you were.”

I give his hand a gentle squeeze. “Breath, love,” I say quietly. I don’t want to stop this love confession. It’s what I’ve been longing to hear since fifth year. But I’m also afraid he’s going to hyperventilate. 

He pauses again, collecting himself. “But then everything happened all at once that Christmas, and I couldn’t even bring myself to try to finish eighth year with you. I’m sorry for that, by the way. Asking you to let me be your terrible boyfriend and then actually being the most terrible boyfriend.” He squeezes my hand back this time, remembering to breathe. “Then America nearly killed us. The whole time we were there, I kept wondering if you could still be mine,” it comes out almost as a whisper before he gets his voice back, “I wanted to tear myself open. Tie our hearts together, chamber by chamber. By the end, I really thought you belonged there. With Lamb, in his vampire mecca. I was so desperate to hold on to you, but too afraid I was holding you back.” I’ve decided Simon is actually going to break my heart with this confession. But the words are pouring out of him, and for once he’s not stumbling through. Even if the words hurt to hear, finally hearing what’s been tumbling around in his head all this time, I’m proud he’s finally finding the words to share them with me. “Then coming back,” he continues, “the Coven threatening to take you in and strike you from the record for what happened at the Renaissance Festival. After everything, you’re still here, and whole, and mine. And you’re still trying to give me every part of you that you can. I just- I love you.” He moves his hand from my shoulder, to cup the side of my face. I lean into his touch. He loves me. He’s said it, more than just said it in fact. “I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you before. I didn’t know how. Thought if I said it, and then you chose to walk away, I’d never be able to recover. I wouldn’t want to recover from that,” he says and my heart aches, “I was a coward, afraid of what saying it out loud would mean. But I do. I love you.”

“Simon Snow,” I brush my knuckle under his chin, gently knocking his face up to look at me. I know eye contact can be hard for him, but I need to be looking into his eyes when I say it, “You’ll never be a coward. An absolute nightmare, but you couldn’t be a coward if you tried. And I love you. I’ve loved you for so long. _Years_. Since fifth year at least. I’ve tried to show you the ways I love you. You tried to run or push me away so many times, I didn’t want to put more pressure on you. To say it back,” I drop my hand from his chin, hoping he’ll look away this time. Ashamed of what I want to say. But somehow he forces himself to keep eye contact. Facing everything I have to say head on. “Sometimes I was terrified if I said it first, you’d reject me. Or at least tell me that you didn’t know if you loved me back. I’ve known you cared for me since our Christmas in Hampshire. But hearing that you cared for me, but not enough to actually love me. I couldn’t bear that thought.” 

“Baz,” Simon whispers. He must see in my eyes how nervous I am. He raises my hand to his lips, kissing my knuckles. Encouraging me to continue.

I take a shaky breath, “I wanted to live in blissful ignorance as long as I could. I’ve tried to show you every day that I love you, every part and extra piece of you. I've always chosen you, and I always will." I lean into him, brushing his lips with mine. A chaste kiss, but one that expresses all of the affection I have for him. Unhurried, because this moment isn't about the quick ignition of our passion, but the sure and steady future that I plan to build with him. 

I lean back a fraction, enough to look at him. “Simon Snow, this is not the marriage proposal I will plan when we’re ready. But I do want to make sure this is done with absolute certainty,” I can’t stop ruminating on the fact that Simon Snow loves me and he knows I love him back. I try to go on with all my mental faculties intact, “I am asking you to allow us to bind ourselves to each other for the rest of your life, to share your mortality with me and my magic with you. I’m hoping you’ll believe me when I tell you that I want to share everything I am, and everything I have with you.” 

“Yes Baz.” He’s absolutely grinning like the idiot he is. “All of it. Yes to binding myself to you if you’re sure that’s something you can live with, yes to sharing your magic and my mortality. Yes to living our lives together, for however long we have.” He’s still grinning, with a twinkle in his eyes I’ve never seen before. “You know I still have a lot to work through, and my wings will always be in the way, and you’ll be forced to live with my poor cleaning habits.” The nightmare is listing off these qualities as if I haven't been wishing for exactly that all along, “But I can promise to ensure you always have a fully stocked blood supply, to annoy you with bad movies and ignorance about classic literature, to keep you warm at night even with the bedroom window open and that every part of my heart belongs to you.” 

He leans into me this time, melting into me with every part of his body. His hands are in my hair, his mouth moving hot against mine all tongue and teeth and absolute every bit Simon. A wild mess that I can never get enough of. He slides his mouth from mine, to the corner of my lips, up my jaw to my ear where he gently nips at my lobe. 

I clear my throat, reminding him that we do actually have business to accomplish beyond love confessions and ravaging each other. “Alright then, Snow. Now that we have our _intentions_ settled, let’s get down to business shall we? Grab your wand and come with me.”

I take him to the study, which is really just an office with my computer, schoolbooks, and a couple of potted plants Fiona keeps in here as a reminder of her days in Beijing when she was completing her herbology apprenticeship. In the middle of the hardwood floor, is the symbol we need to stand inside of to make the ritual work. I drew it here in chalk while Simon was making breakfast. There is also a small knife in the circle. We’ll need it to mingle our blood. I step into the center of the symbol and hold out a hand for him to take. He takes my hand, stepping in with me, toe to toe. I take the copy of the ritual out of my pocket that I painstakingly copied down last night. 

I squeeze Simon’s hand. “Are you ready, love?” I need to give him one last chance to back out. To realize he’s about to enter an unbreakable bond with a vampire, and let me down gently. In my heart I know he won’t, but I’ve been convincing myself Simon Snow could never care for me for too many years. 

He squeezes my hand back. “Absolutely. Forever. Now get on with it. You promised I’d be warming my own scones by tea time.” This insufferable idiot. I’ll never stop loving him. 

“Alright.” I reach down and pick up the knife. It’s nothing fancy, just a paring knife I borrowed from the kitchen. “We need to make a small cut on our palms for our blood to mingle. I’ll cast the spell first, and then you’ll need to repeat it. Don’t forget, intention counts. Even if you don’t have your own magic at this moment, my part of the spell should transfer enough magic into you for you to seal the bond. And for the love of magic, don’t let go of my hand until the ritual is complete.”

**Simon**

“Are you ready?” Baz asks me. He sounds so sure about all of this. About the ritual working, about binding ourselves together, about our future. If Baz Pitch is sure it will work, who am I to question it? If intent counts, I know he’ll make this work without a doubt. 

“Yeah. Just- a little nervous. Baz, if this doesn’t work. You need to know. I’ll love you even if I don’t have magic. I love you now, without magic. I didn’t say it just because you’re trying to give me your magic.” Now that I’ve finally told him that I love him, I don’t want to stop. I want to say it until I’m sure he has no room to doubt it. Make up for all the times I wouldn’t let myself think about it because I didn’t think I was worthy of loving him.

“I know.” He’s quiet but leaves no room for doubt in his voice. “I’ve loved you with more magic than you could contain and with no magic at all. Magic wasn’t the reason I fell in love with you. I fell in love with you because you’re brave and selfless and clever. You’ve never backed down from a challenge, and no matter how dreadful I was to you, you refused to turn your back on me. Magic has never been the catalyst for why I love you.” With that, he slices a shallow cut across his palm. I don’t see Baz bleed often. Really, just the time in America and now. It surprises me that he has enough blood in him to flow from a wound like it does. I wonder if that means he drank right before the ritual, while he was getting stuff ready. Will cutting my hand open right next to a vampire will be a problem. No, Baz has been around me enough times over the years when I’ve returned from a mission covered in blood and gashes. He has more restraint than anybody I know. 

He hands me the knife and I cut my palm, tossing the knife just outside of the circle and take his hand. I can tell he’s caught the scent of the tang of my fresh blood, his nostrils flare and he closes his eyes taking a slow steadying breath. I know he’s concentrating on making sure his fangs don’t pop. I wish he wouldn’t worry so much about that when it’s just the two of us. “All right?” I ask. 

He opens his eyes and raises a brow at me. “Never better. Now, wands out, remember intention counts, and don’t let go until I say.”

Baz slowly reads the ritual from the small piece of paper gripped in his wand hand. 

__**"My bounty is as boundless as the sea,**  
**My love as deep; the more I give to thee,**  
**The more I have, for both are infinite."**

As he says the last line I can feel a warm tingle in the hand joined with Baz’s. The feeling is building quickly, steadily growing from a warm tingle to a fire. It’s not painful, or even unpleasant, it just feels warm and safe. Like the part of Baz’s soul that matches mine is trying to join together. The sensation creeps up my arm and settles deep in my gut. I realize I’ve started squeezing Baz’s hand, maybe a bit too tight. He gives me an inquisitive look and I loosen my grip a little, careful not to let go. I raise my wand hand and repeat the spell. 

By the time I’m casting the last line, the air around us is shimmering with a translucent green energy. 

“Together now!” Baz commands me, and we do, casting in unison. We finish together, hitting hard on the words _bounty_ and _give_. On the last word, there is an audible POP and the air around us has returned to normal. 

“Is- is it done, then?” I ask with a shaky breath. I can feel it bubbling under my skin. The steady quiet thrum of Baz’s magic waiting to be called on. It feels different than my own magic did. Quieter, not as chaotic and insistent on spilling out. 

“I believe so.” He tentatively releases my hand, looking at the blood smeared across his palm. A mixture of his and mine. Lifting his eyes to meet mine he continues, “how do you feel? Do you think you can cast something? You could try a “Get well soon!” on our palms. The cuts aren’t deep, they shouldn’t take much magic to heal.”

“Yeah, okay.” I swallow and look at my wand. This will be the first spell I’ve tried to cast with it in over a year. Even when I did have magic, my spells never worked well. Penny thought my wand may not have been compatible with my magic because it was the Mage’s. I wonder if it will work any better now with Baz’s magic. I close my eyes and feel for the magic. _His_ magic. I open my eyes and lift my wand, pointing it at my own blood-streaked palm. I won’t cast on him first, just in case something bad happens. I’ve never liked casting on people. **“Get well soon!”**

**BAZ**

One minute he’s jutting out that beautiful chin of his in determination, the next his palm is healed perfectly. Not a scar or blemish left, just a smear of our blood remains. His wand is still up and he’s gaping at his hand, mouth open. (mouth breather.)

“Again,” I whisper, holding out my palm to him. “Do it again.” And he does. With a flick of his wand and a second **“Get well soon!”** my palm has healed over as well. I heal fast, probably wouldn’t have bothered to heal it myself, but I needed him to do it again. I needed to feel him use our magic again. _Our magic_. It’s truly ours now, I felt it with his first spell. A weak pulling in my gut. It reminds me of the pull from the crucible when we were first matched as roommates. The magic of the crucible drew us together when we were eleven, and now magic will tether us together forever. 

He looks up at me and is grinning. Seeing that light in his eyes again, after having it dimmed for the last year makes my cold dead heart almost feel alive again. I take him by the hand and lead him to the loo to clean the blood up. 

“Could you feel it? When I tapped into your magic?” He’s washing his hands now that I’ve finished cleaning myself up, his wand tucked into the waistband of his trackies like an absolute numpty. 

“I did,” I step up behind him, tucking myself into the space between his wings, my arms wrapping around his waist. I hook my chin over his shoulder, studying him in the mirror. “It feels like the pull of the crucible, except I don’t want to kick you in the knees anymore when I feel it,” I smirk at him. I know he remembers how hard I fought the pull that night. “Do you want to see what it feels like for you?” 

He nods, a quick gesture, eyes locked on mine in the mirror. I nip a kiss to the mole on his neck I love so much before stepping back. He turns around to see what I’m doing. I slip my wand out from my sleeve, lighting a flame in my other hand. I’m watching his face, looking for a reaction to using my magic. After a few moments of hovering the flame just above my palm, I cast **“Make a wish!”** to extinguish it. It’s a stupid waste of magic, I don’t really need my wand to extinguish a flame like this. But I want to use enough magic to make sure he can feel it. 

“How was that? Did you feel it?” I can’t guess how he’s feeling. He didn’t react to the flame or spell. 

“That was. Baz.” He’s having trouble finding his words. I’m not sure if that’s altogether encouraging. “That was brilliant. Like you said. The pull from the crucible. Like your magic is trying to pull us together.”

“Snow, it’s not _my_ magic. Not anymore. It’s _ours_ , it’ll always be _ours_.” 

He closes the gap between us, dropping his head to my chest and his arms around my waist. His body is shuddering with sobs and I honestly hadn’t expected this reaction. (I should have. Simon has been a roller coaster of emotion for a year now.) He must be completely overwhelmed by everything. Regaining access to magic. (Which he cast flawlessly on his first attempt, I’m quite proud.) Feeling the bond tethering us together. Maybe finally realizing that this shared link between us is real, now that he felt it. “Baz,” he says once he’s finally breathing normally again. “I love you. So much. It hurts sometimes, knowing how much I love you. Thinking about everything you’ve given me. Not just magic. This past year has been. Well, it’s been hard hasn’t it? You should have walked away, given up on me.” He’s shaking his head into my chest. I grip him by the shoulders and haul him back a few inches to look at me. 

“Simon, I will never give up on you. I’ve known since we were twelve that I couldn’t walk away from you. I’ve known since we were fifteen that I was in love with you. I knew when we were eighteen that no matter what happened, I’d give my meager existence to ensure you’d be spared.” He looks like he’s about to protest my willingness to sacrifice myself for him, so I press on. “I told you in California, and I’ll tell you again. One last time, and I need you to really hear me this time. I will never be happy any place that you’re not. This binding is quite literally the best thing that came into my life after you. You have magic again and I won’t have to live a life without you. We’ll know when the other is hurt or using magic, even when we’re apart. This is probably the greatest gift magic could have given us, after being drawn together by the crucible.” 

He leans up and presses a kiss to my lips. My cheek. My neck. My collar bone. And then, his stomach growls. The sort of barbaric noise that only Simon Snow can produce. He rasps out a laugh into my neck. 

“Well, Baz. You promised me I’d be casting warming spells on my scones by tea time. I think it’s time we tested out my **“Some like it hot!”**

I let him take my hand and lead us to the kitchen.

**Author's Note:**

> The ritual spell found at the end of the fic is a quote from Shakespeare's Romeo & Juliet, Act II, sc. iii. 
> 
> I have plans to make this Part I of a series, with following pieces rated between Teen and Explicit. But for now, this is a stand-alone and can easily be read that way. 
> 
> **Come say hello to me on[Tumblr!](http://foolofabookwyrm.tumblr.com/) I love new friends!**


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